Paradox
by Lilith Rahasya Devanta
Summary: Paradox - a true statement or a group of true statments that leads to a contradiction. How is this, in any way, not true for long-standing enemies?
1. First: Online

Summary: Paradox - a true statement or a group of true statments that leads to a contradiction. How is this, in any way, not true for long-standing enemies?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Rating: M

Author's Note: Yes, this is likely to be two or three chapters long - unless I feel like adding more sex for kicks. I don't really know where I'm going with this, so here's me telling you now - don't expect much out of it.

Warning: First chapter is BORING

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**Paradox**

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_First: Online_

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With the war over and both the Muggle and Magical worlds at peace, for once, many ex-students of Hogwarts found themselves with very few satisfying things to do. After an up-bringing chalked full of excitment, terror, and chaos, a peaceful world just not a very interesting place. Hermione was a testiment to that. No matter how many books she bought or how many places she travelled to, she still found herself awake at night because she was so _bored. _According to the _The Quibbler,_ more than one decorated veteran of the war against Voldimort had been placed in Azkaban due to their terrible choices in thrill-seeking. Harry had gotten lucky - his fame had carried on into far more than just photo-signings. Hermione had followed along with Ron while Harry toured for his very successful book series: _Cutting off the Snakes Head._ He'd also been hired by the Ministry for his "superior magic skills". Ron was in the Quidditch League, playing the Keeper position and was suffering his own kind of fame.

Hermione had not bought into the fame that went with being a hero, feeling that being that superficial was completely detrimental to oneself. She'd seen the world now, whether or not she had really been interested in the place. She'd learned six other languages now, for lack of better things to do, and was the proud owner of the best online wizards database - of course, only accessable by wizards and she was paid by the Ministry to maintain and update it. It was an easy living. Really easy.

Too easy.

She sighed quietly and starred at her ceiling. The desktop in the living room was enchanted to keep scanning articles from ever wizard periodicle, journal, and newspaper on the planet and uploading it with the appropriate information. Beside her, Million City was open. She was waiting for the contracts to end before going to bed, not that she was tired. She didn't sleep much anymore, maybe two or three hours a night. Chances were, she'd twist around in bed for an hour, then go online to find someone to talk to out of boredom. Trolling was a wonderful pastime.

As it is, she didn't even bother with actually getting into bed - only getting as far as getting into her creme colored silk nightgown before moving her laptop and opening every messenger she had. Her Muggle friends really didn't fill the gap that was night, having normal human lives to attend to - ones that required consistant sleeping patterns. She still tried, though.

Almost instantly, there was a soft "bing" and a screen popped up, displaying the words: _Hey there, Granger._

She frowned at the little window, the deep green font. Once a Slytherine, always a Slytherine. At least she'd had the decency to move on to non-cliche colors, like deep, royal purple and doe-browns. Her fonts were always blue, though, and in some sort of odd font like Neverwinter or High Tower. She was a avid user of free font download. The computer bleeped again, signaling the new line in the conversation: _What's got a goody-goody doing up this late at night? _

She typed: _Not sleeping, obviously._

Then she added, as an after though: _What about you, Malfoy._

He replied: _Bored out of my mind and lacking in fuck-buddies for once._

She rolled her eyes and typed: _How sad for you. That's how you avoided Azkaban, right? Getting laid?_

He typed: _And you did it by travelling, learning Gaelic, Latin, Japanese, Mandarin, Finnish, and Arabic. What are you moving on to?_

She sighed and laid down, leaning on her elbows before typing: _I don't know yet._

He didn't reply for twenty minutes after that, but she found that she was checking back to his window almost ever five minutes. None of her Muggle buddies stuck around for long, and she actually smiled in relief when the "bing" belonged to his flashing name on the task bar. He had typed: _You're going to the reunion, right?_

It'd been five years since they'd finished school. Five years since she'd last seen any wizard outside of the Ministry. She typed: _Yes._

What he typed after that made her jaw drop: _Feel like having a date for it?_

In all her twenty-two years, she'd never imagined that she would ever get asked to anything friendly by a Slytherine - least of all a Malfoy. She moved to type, but stopped herself partway four times in a row before making her decision. She slowly typed: _Sure, whynot._

_

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Ending Notes: I told you it was boring.

Read and Review

_~Lilith R. Devanta~_


	2. Second: In Public

Summary: Paradox - a true statement or a group of true statments that leads to a contradiction. How is this, in any way, not true for long-standing enemies?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Rating: M

Author's Note: Oh, I like this one a lot better than the last one. ^.^ You will too, I hope. Oh, and a heady thank you to my first reviewer. Your faith makes me smile, ThatGirlWithThatSmile. 3 This one is for you, lovely.

Warning: Definitely more sexy, I'll call it a very light lime scene - as well: LONG. Don't like - don't read. Oh, the logic.

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**Paradox**

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_Second: In Public_

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She still found herself gaping internally at herself as she browsed through her minimal dress selection. It was like being seventeen all over again, giddy and nervous on her first date - but this wasn't just a date. It was Draco Malfoy. This was all-new territory. Hermione had seen the world, learned its people, its languages, its customs, and helped kill one of the badest mother fuckers on the face of the earth, but Hermione was still human enough to say that she was terrified of this date. Looking back on it now, she wished she had said no. She hadn't worried about her appearance, well, ever, and now look what he'd gone and done. She'd been trying on dresses repeatedly, the same five over and over again in an uncharacteristic muddle of need to be approved of and wanting to out-do the narcistic boy.

No, not boy. Age deemed him a man now.

She threw down the baby blue piece in her hand for the tenth time. She snapped, "Its official, I need to go shopping. Gods, this is so ridiculous!"

But, no matter how silly it all seemed, she practically threw on some jeans, a white tank and a hoodie before heading out of her appartment, very much the average-looking Muggle, only with twice the normal length of brown hair. It wasn't so big anymore, just long and prone to tangling just from being looked at. She hadn't felt the need to get it fixed up either. That's when she started to worry about what she was going to do with her hair. And, god forbid, her make-up. Hermione Granger was not a girl who was meant to do such trivial, female things, but here was occassion, calling for it. And it was calling for it tomorrow.

The streets of London were crowded and loud, something Hermione wasn't exactly used to anymore, even after the general chaos that went with winning her Heroship. She didn't take her time to adjust or gape before forging her way to the nearest dress boutique that she knew of - luckily only a fifteen minute walk in the weathers sad attempt to rain. The fashionable dresses around her were in every color and most sizes. The men's side of it had sleek suits waiting for unsuspecting future husbands. Hermione ignored it all, though, and went straight to the counter, the epitome of annoyed female. The clerk was shocked, to say the least. "I need a dress," Hermione growled.

"Wh-wh-what for?" studdered the clerk, leaning away from the angry woman tentively.

"Fancy black tie event," Hermione grumbled. "I have no idea of what to wear."

That made the clerk perk up, easily falling into the blonde fashionista stereotype. "I've got a few ideas!"

* * *

Draco left yet another tailor in a stormy manor, stalking epically to his fancy silver sports car and taking to the road once more. Did no one in London know how to make a suit any more? According to the last seven establishments he'd attended - no. If only his mother had been avalible. He wouldn't have needed to worry about any of this. He didn't doubt that he'd fit one of his fathers old dress robe sets. But no, the happy couple had to be vacationing in some hot place to avoid the winter bump.

He thought back on the reason for his needing to look supremely attractive. Hermione Granger. They hadn't spoken in five years until he'd seen her online on that stupid Wizards chatroom and, on a whim, decided to talk to her. Then, on another whim, asked her to accompany him to their magical schooling reunion. Logic must have joined his parent on vacation, since it was the least logical thing for him to do. Growing up they'd been the most violently fond of enemies. His forced siding with the Death Eaters and her more than obvious friendship with the Boy Who Lived had only made things worse. He'd even admit now to truly hating her for a time, not that'd he'd figured out why yet. She hadn't really done anything wrong other than be muggle-born and not bowing to his will in school - and he wasn't shallow enough to say that had ever earned his hate for anybody else. It was always something big, like trying to kill him, or rape him, etc. Hermione would never have the gall to do anything of the sort. Thinking about it now, he wondered if he wasn't just a touch daft. Sure, she was a Gryffindor, disgustingly prudish, and an all-round pain in the ass - but she'd never actually done anything wrong. None of that would change how awkward it was going to be showing up with the annoying little witch on his arm. Gods, what had he been thinking?

Right. Horny, lacking in bedmates, and terrible muggle porn all at the same time. It was weird how good imagining her had been.

He picked a new parking spot the second he spotted another place that appeared to carry formal wear, paying little to no attention to the pedestrians that jumped out of his way in doing so. The pure elegance he carried himself with was more than enough to stop all the females from loudly complaining once he stepped out of his prized vehicle. After that their men were too busy stopping their drooling women to worry about him. As such, Draco rarely had to worry about being stopped from doing what he wanted, and right now that was to find a half-decent looking suit.

A girl appeared instantly, offering to help him find whatever he was looking for - accompanied by an unecessary wink and sultry smile. He didn't even speak, expecting her to follow him as he moved to browse what they had to offer for men. When he heard a familiar voice call, "Its official, we're not doing blue!" he froze, turned, and gaped.

She was right, that blue really wasn't her color. Nor was the style of dress anything he would ever have expected to see on her - far too much like what Pansy would wear while trying to tempt his pants to the floor. Naturally, such a design begged to have that pale skin admired in its entirety and her figure alone screamed that this was a woman that was meant to be touched. It was instant discomfort for him.

When had she gotten so fuck-worthy? He wondered heatedly to himself - that being the only direction his mind could work in for the moment. She really needed to put on more clothes, _now_. He'd figured their little date would be a clash of minds, testing eachothers intelligence just as they had in the good ol'days, only without the childish arguing that had gone with it. He doubted he'd be able to think of anything other than that elegant back now, though. He stuffed his hands deeply into his dark jean pockets and cleared his throat, loudly - a technique he had learned from his father to get attention without asking for it. Sure enough, the little vixen turned, droping the, ironically, forest green piece her own attendant had just placed in her hands to be looked at. Those graceful pink lips parted in shock, her chocolately brown eyes going wide.

"Malfoy?" she breathed. The math was obviously not working in her own head, just as - if not more than - his own. Having been acknowledged, he approached, ignoring both confused clerks.

"I'll say, Granger," he answered just as quietly, now looming over her. She fidgeted. Good - it was too close. He frowned at what she was wearing, more for her benefit than his, and then at the green that was on the floor. "Shouldn't you be wearing red, goody two shoes?"

"I like purple better, actually," she growled, the shock worn off enough for her to cover her chest modestly. He shrugged and slowly bent to pick up the poor discarded green dress off the floor, still far too close. When he offered it to her, she looked confused. "What?"

"C'mon, Granger," he teased. How was he falling into seduction mode so easily with her? "Lets see you in _my_ colors."

* * *

She couldn't believe it. Even worse, she couldn't believe _him._ He had a decent hair style now, longer, messy and modern-looking instead of his slicked back choice from their school days. That change alone seemed to make his stormy eyes ten times more intense than before - or maybe that was just because she was a lot closer than usual. As much as she wanted to take a step back from that dangerous male body, she felt the need to be just as defiant as she had been when they hated eachother. Well, not hate. He was just the most annoying and mean possible person in school. Even so, it was hard to stand strong with something so destructively male _right_ there. And he was that - destructive. She'd seen no end to the rumors and stories of broken hearts he'd been leaving in his wake. Draco had become a first-class womanizer since the end of the war. It was a good way to keep on the good side of the law, and as far as appearances went, it worked rather well. He was tall, something far easier to see when she had to look up to see his face. He was well built, she could see that under the white expanse of his shirt. He resonanted power in its most primal form. He was a creature that demanded to be obied.

Honestly, it terrified her.

So, instead of arguing as she normally would have, she took that offered dress and ran. The little blue thing didn't cover much, anyways. She needed some material between her and this almost demonicly sensual male - a lot of material. The curtain of the change room certainly helped. It gave her a chance to recover her breath and calm down her system. It was only Malfoy, after all.

Luckily, this little dress wasn't nearly so reveal as the baby blue had been. It had a modest skirt to the knee, although it poofed a little bit too much, a thick sash around the middle with a decorative flower in the front, and a high collar with no sleeves. She thought it looked okay. Kind of old-fashioned, but still pretty decent. Infinitely more calm and slightly more confident than when he'd surprised her, she stepped back out into the open. That calm disappeared almost instantly. How in hell could he drap himself so well over a chair? Even worse, why couldn't he just blink more regularly? She felt naked under those inspecting eyes.

He shook his head, then. "No, not going to work. Next."

She frowned, offended. "What's wrong with this one? I think its kind of cute." She spun a little, just to show off the skirt. He got up, invading her personal space once more, but she stood firm now.

"With your hair up like this," he murmured, pulling the carefully placed pins in her hair out without asking. Her brown waves fell down around her waist. "You look like something out of a fifties movie."

The look on his face told her he was surprised at how tame her hair was now, and how long. She took up an anger face now, though, snatching the pins back and growling, "It took Clara almost an hour to get this mop out of the way, you ass!"

Clara appeared once more, quickly saying, "Don't worry! I can fix it."

"I'll fix it," Draco said stonily, giving the girl a hard look. "You're going to find something better for her to wear."

Hermione didn't have the time to gape as Clara disappeared once more and she found herself turned and up against a wall almost a second later. He somehow managed to handle her hair without pulling it at all. She thought back to his mother, the goregous Narcissa. He'd probably had practice helping that woman out. It also surprised her when, with her hair nicely out of the way once more, she felt gentle lips on the curve where her shoulders met her neck. She jumped, but sturdy hands on her waist kept her from whirling on him with several choice violent words. So, instead, she hissed, "What in hell are you doing?"

He chuckled deeply, moving away from her and safely outside of swatting range. "You're not stupid, Granger. Guess."

She would have told him off. She would have made a scene. She would have hexed him into the next century. Only the words wouldn't come. The witty remarks, the sharp insults, the icy defenses - none of them. And Clara dumped a pile of other dresses on her in the few short moments Hermione had to gape at him. She was shoed back into the dressing room without so much as a by-your-leave, and she didn't even have the energy to fight it. All her nerve endings were tingling. Her joints were stiff. She was shaking. What the hell had he done to her?

* * *

If he had thought helping a female doing shoping was bad before he'd bumped into Miss. Granger, he definitely didn't anymore. She jumped at his touch, something no girl had done since his sixth year at Hogwarts. She blushed, got angrily flustered, he could see it on her face. But she had no arguments. None. She didn't know what to say when he did something off-color like run a hand down that back that he desperately wanted to see again or hold her still to breath some comment in her ear. At twenty-two, Hermione still reacted like the newest of teenage lovers, startled by _everything._ He couldn't wrap his brain around how virginal she still acted, but at the same time it didn't entirely surprise him. After her messy falling-out with Weasly - whom he assumed didn't have many skills to speak of at all - she'd pretty much disappeared off the face of the earth. It was only on his rare visits to the Ministry that he'd heard of her, normally meant as teasing about his stationary and simple ways while his worst school enemy was off and seeing the world, learning infinitely more than he'd ever really cared to know. She'd kept with what she was good at, thinking. He'd taken his learning in a whole different direction.

Oh, he was going to enjoy teaching her, too. He'd never had the willfully shy type before. He didn't doubt that she'd fight him every step of the way. Weasly can't have left her with much by way of good memories in bed, and she probably never wanted to repeat it. Just thinking about changing her mind got him fired up.

She appeared before him again, still the curvacious little temptress he'd first seen upon arriving. This time drapped in black. The lightly shimmering material flowed down her body like paint - having only one little strap to speak of - and pooling around her dainty feel in a lake of elegance. In the front, a long slit ended up making up enthralled with the white flesh of her thigh, one that kept flitting in and out of his line of sight tauntingly. He gaped. She did a little turn for him, seeming tired of his critisims now, and showing off that devine back for him once more. "Well? What's wrong with this one?"

He glanced about the shop to see if the clerks were watching, but all three were busy with less demanding customers now. He clenched his fists, shaking slightly, as he stood to give his assessment.

Only, this assessment involved pulling her back behind that deep violet drape and up against his chest, his teeth already pulling on that one little string keeping the entire piece from falling off her dangerously soft skin and his hands smoothing the flesh of her back to mold her as close as possible. He must have picked up some luck that day because she didn't scream, and it took her a minute to fight. Thank the muses, she did so quietly.

"Malfoy, what are you - " Ha, he'd gotten that tiny little protector off her shoulder and the garmet fell loosely lower on her breasts. He internally cursed. He'd been foiled by a shimmering gauze, what was the world coming to? She, however, went from a well-controled calm to fear in a split second. "Malfoy, let me go, _right_ now!"

He shook his head slowly, raising it to nuzzle her temple. He backed her up against the wall none too gently, trying to pull the obstructive black off her at the waist. Unfortunately, she held it up by crossing her arms under her taunting bosom. He breathed in her ear, "No."

"Malfoy - " Since he was having no success in pulling the dress off in a downward direction, he wedged his thigh between hers and lifted her up the wall a ways. This made trailing gentle kisses over her chest and shoving the black folds of the dress back a far easier task. As well, she felt what was driving him now, pressing hard against her own hip. Her voice fell into a whisper. "Malfoy, let me go." When, instead, he nuzzled one of those delicious breasts, she pleaded with evident fear and uncertainty in her soft voice. "Draco, please!"

She was shaking. He could feel it as he smoothed his palms over her warm thighs, as he pressed himself hungrily against her. She was scared. Dammit, he'd have to take his time. He wasn't good at being patient. He sighed heavily and let her slid to the ground, her legs failing her. It was iron will alone that let him ignore how close her lips were to him as she leaned her head against his hip weakly. He took a moment to compose himself before kneeling down beside her, taking her into his arms even though she instantly tried to retreat from them. His breath was heavy. Hers was shallow. Even here on the ground, holding her as a comfort, he found himself facinated with the unadultered softness of her exposed back, stroking her slowly, gently. He was surprised that the clerks didn't come inquiring, but left it thankfully unquestioned.

He was surprised when she tucked herself against his side of her own accord, curling up in a defensive way to protect her ample curves. Looking down at her now, he could see the bright flush that tainted her skin. She was also hiding those welcoming eyes of hers from him. He stayed silent, though, keeping up his gentle touches. He felt guitly, as well as angry at himself. How was he supposed to win now? In his self analysis, all he could think was, _way to go, dumbass._

He looked back down at her when her breathing had evened out and her shaking had, for the most part, subsided. She still didn't look at him, but very quietly said, "You know, normal people build up to attacks like that."

Attacks. He winced. That was not a good sign. But here she was, using reason to make things far less...extreme than they had been. If it calmed her down, he'd roll with it. "I've been building up to it since the second I walked through the door of this place," he told her honestly. He blamed that little blue thing, the one that had, ultimately, addicted him to her graceful back. Just thinking about it made him antsy. "I do apologise, though. I suppose it is odd enough to be attending the reunion together. I should have waited to see if our personalities were compatible or something equally cheesy."

She snorted, "Neither of us are that stupid, Malfoy."

"Oh, so we're back to Malfoy now?" he asked, a little peeved. In the heat of the moment she'd called him Draco. It had been a good series of sounds on her tongue.

"Well..." she thought for a moment and then shrugged in defeat. "Okay, you have a point, _Draco._"

She was still frazled. A rational Hermione would never had admitted to that. So, he decided to take advantage of her just one more time, lifting her chin up and leaning down to lay a proper kiss on her. Her froze up, shocked all over again. So he murmured, "C'mon Her-mi-on-ie." He drug out the sylabls of her name softly, rolling their flavor around in his mind. It elicted a shiver from her. Not a shake, not a shock, a shiver. _That_ was a good sign. So, right against those rosie pink lips, he murmured, "Try."

He didn't know if it was the gentle hold he had on her waist, the hand that was carefully tangled in that lucious hair of hers, the heat of his own skin eminating through his clothes to tempt her own, or just the non-committing way he had asked, but she tried. It was tentive, uncertain, and sweetly innocent. Because of that, he gave back just as carefully. No point in overwhelming her poor brain again with sensations she was by no means used to. Yet. That small, three-letter word in his mind caused a shiver to go down his spine and he gave her a tiny taste of that power he was feeling, just a miniscule little nip, before letting her go and using the wall to get to his feet. She looked to be in a state of shock. "You need to get changed," he told her. "Or I am garunteeing that I'll try to do that all over again."

Those warm eyes went wide and he found himself shoved back out into public with a friend he really didn't care to share with the people of the boutique. Lucky him, nobody was looking, giving him the opportunity to sit and hide it. He also quickly noted how Hermione was taking a long time to torment him with some other silken slip. This was both a blessing and a frustration for him. No matter how much he wanted to see her in yet another slighly indecent, easily accesible piece of clothing, he really didn't think it was in his best interests at the moment. He began to run pictures of old naked people through his mind in a standard attempt to reroute the blood to his brain, but the tastey little creature that was just out of his sight kept invading, bringing all her delightful curves with her.

When she reappeared before him in street jeans, a white tank, and a dark brown hoodie, he was actually a little offended. At his confused expression, she looked away and said, "I don't think i'm getting a new dress for the reunion."

He nodded and stood, passion off his mind for the moment. As she made her way to the door, he couldn't help noticing his black nemisis, left behind on the floor. He quickly turned and called, "Wait, Hermione! Just let me pick a suit. It won't take more than a minute! I want to take you out for coffee."

She looked back at him, surprised. She frowned a little, but nodded and said, "Sure, I'll just be outside."

* * *

She paced outside uneasily, her hoodie zipped up to her neck to hide her own embarassment. In her rush to leave her appartment she hadn't bothered with a bra. Its not like you needed one for trying on strapless dresses. Now it was a cause for worry. Draco had happened in the least likely way. Ron had never handled her like Draco had, back in the change room. Ron had been awkward, timid, and she'd done most of the work to be left wanting. Draco definitely wasn't like that. There wasn't a plantive bone in his ridiculously strong body. He had held her in a grip that demanded he be pleased, and he'd run his hands over her like a man that expected nothing less than to be pleasing. He was confident, not that he had any reason not to be from what she'd seen and heard. He was powerful. She'd actually been scared that he wouldn't stop, but then was surprised when he had. Just remembering the flurry of passion he'd brought down on her that had so suddenly stopped in favour of carefully kind treatment made her shiver. Yep, Ron had been _nothing_ like that.

She jumped when he suddenly came up behind her and whispered in her ear, "Ready to go?" Over one shoulder he had his bodybagged suit - the covering a solid black plastic.

"Um, sure, I guess," she said quietly, instinctively backing away from him a bit. He took her arm like a proper gentleman and led her to an expensive silver sports car.

"I know a great place on the other side of the city. They've got a cheesecake that is to die for."

The offer was out of her mouth before she had thought her words through. "Or we could just go back to my place. I've got lots of that kind of crap." He was shocked by it, which is how she knew it was a bad idea, but it was too late now. To justify it in an innocent way, she added, "I need to feed Crookshanks, anyway. And its only a fifteen minute walk from here."

"I'll drive, you navigate."

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Ending Notes: I told you it was long, didn't I?

Read and Review

_~Lilith R. Devanta~_


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